The Founders' Tale
by Mrs Grim
Summary: A pile of parchment containing a story never before told to the Wizarding World has surfaced: The tale of the four founders. Just as intriguing, though, how on earth did it end up in HIS possesion?
1. Segment One

**A/N: I have wanted to write this tale for sometime now and I am going to do my best to complete it. I have no promises on how quickly chapters will go out, but I shall do my best. Also, if anyone is an artist and might like to do fan art, that would be amazing.**

**Thank you and happy reading!**

**The Founders' Tale**

By Mrs Grim

Prologue as divided by the transcriber of the text

How do stories come to an end? How do dreams fail? How is one able to put down a book, to accept the ending and to go on with one's life?

Oh, but I suppose that one is uninvolved with a tale that one reads, even if there is some emotional link with the characters. After all, that tale is done and one's own life is still ahead.

But what if the tale is your own? What if you had penned the words yourself and had then looked over them, slowly digesting the letters, reliving the tale over again in your mind. What is you had to decide whether it should live or die—whether some things were best off forgotten or hushed up? Whether the large sheaf of papers on your lap should be thrown into the fire you're looking into...so hot, so ready to consume the horrors you hold.

The first page is not the title page, for thinking of a title seemed unnecessary and pointless at the time. Besides, it is not just a story, for it is _my_ story—_our_ story! How can I make it look like a fiction, like a common knut novelette that one could buy on any street corner?

But it reads like a tale of mystery and of suspense, of love, of hate and of murder and even when I pass my eyes over it now it seems unreal. And then I feel all of those emotions rise up within me and I know—I know that it is all true and that it will always be true and that casting it into the fire would never change the past, would never make things any different.

For that is my true purpose, of course, and I should admit it to myself now. I want to make it all go away. I want to destroy all the pain and all the pleasure and watch the fire turn my past to ashes. I want to believe that things will be different, then. That I'll be magically changed and that I'll never once think on them again.

Or on Hogwarts.

Built with by own two hands and fallen with them as well. Oh, the vision had been beautiful—glorious and we had all been so captivated, so alive and on fire with power and with love. We loved it and we loved knowing it was ours.

Alas, that was not enough. Not for any of us. Removing our humanity from the picture, trying to be what we weren't, pretending we didn't feel, were immovable, were practically demigods, ah the mistakes are so clear to my eyes now, these eyes that will close for the last time very soon.

And when I die, the story will die as well. I know that I am the only one left; I have kept track and I also know that I am the only one who penned this tale. And I hold its life in my hands.

(X)

"Shit."

The word was murmured, a casual profanity, as if the speaker had much more on her mind and the word was a way to keep her busy for the moment.

The parchment was old, crumbling much too quickly. That first introduction page was already badly damaged; it was a miracle that it could be deciphered at all! However, the young woman's sharp eyes and experience with old documents aided her as she copied the words onto fresh paper. She had to make up a word here and there, but it was in much better condition than she would have expected.

"I think it will hold together," the woman said, pursing her lips for a moment before looking up at the man who had brought the papers to her. Her green eyes were no longer phased by his presence; she was of a passive nature and it was a good thing too. Though she still had to wonder exactly why this had shown up in _his_ house of all places!

The tall blond ran a hand through his usually tidy hair and looked relieved. Well, as relieved as he could look; he was not one for showing emotion and that had not changed over the years.

"You can copy it, then? Very good," he said, stopping his pacing to take a seat next to her.

"You're going to sit here while I do it?" Ginny Weasley was peering at Draco Malfoy as if he'd lost his marbles. First he turns up at her house five years after graduation with a crumbling sheaf of papers and now he was going to sit there calmly while she took days and hours to complete the process? "I'm sorry—I don't think you realize how long this will take. I can only hope the other pages are as readable as the first. But, still, it will take me quite a while to finish this. It looks to be a few hundred pages," she added.

Draco did not seem phased by the prospect of waiting nor did he seem to be very interested in the pretty redhead he was sitting next to. In fact, he seemed to be trying not to look at her as much as possible, though without the usual sneer that she remembered.

"I want to be here when you work on it," he explained, his eyes focusing on the text almost longingly. "This is a momentous discovery; I cannot imagine how it lay buried for so long."

"Or how it turned up in your attic," Ginny interjected, letting out a quick sigh. "Look, I don't think—"But the look on his face stopped her. Clearly, she was not going to get anywhere arguing with him. "Do you really want to come here everyday and spend hours watching me pore over the manuscript?" she said finally.

"I want to come here everyday and spend hours reading what you can decipher from that manuscript," he corrected and there was even a hint of a smile. It was an elevated one, though; the aristocracy was hard to separate from the man. "I will pay you very well for this, I hope you don't doubt that," he added, focusing on her face for almost the first time since he'd come in.

Ginny nodded. She could use the money and, well, it was her job and her interest. Besides, she knew that part of her was dying to see what was revealed on those pages. If this were a true tale, of course. But the paper tested out to be of the right date and her instinct told her this was the real thing.

"How about we work for a few hours each day? I work in the mornings at the museum, so perhaps after dinner? Seven to ten or thereabouts?" she suggested. It would fill up her already busy schedule, but she had a feeling it might also be her big break. "I can work on restoring the original as well; the top ones might be more brittle, but I think the rest look in good condition. That will take much longer, though. I take it that copying the text is the first priority?"

Draco nodded. "Certainly," he said firmly. Then, after a moment, he looked up at her with that hint of a smile again. "Don't you want to know what happens too?"

(X)

Ginny went through her tours of the museum like an automaton, thinking only long enough to answer the usual questions before sinking back into the ordinary routine once more. She kept glancing at her watch, noticing that it was nearly seven already and cursing her tour group for having been late. Of course, her professional smile never faltered and she rushed through as quickly as she could and finished at about quarter past seven.

Retrieving her coat from the backroom, she yanked it on and headed out to the bus stop. Apparation was all well and good, but no one used that as the sole means of transportation. Besides, she was completely bushed after work and likely to splice herself into a few pieces if she attempted that now. And, of course, she hadn't quite earned enough for a car yet; she was still paying off student loans. She had a feeling she'd be doing that for a while.

She reached the bus stop just in time to see the vehicle pulling away. The number 8 had left two minutes early, meaning that she'd be about twenty more minutes late. The last thing she wanted to do was go home to find an enraged Draco Malfoy sitting on her doorstep.

And then it began to rain.

An enraged and _wet_ Draco Malfoy, she corrected herself, though she figured he had probably had the presence of mind to look at the weather forecast before venturing out. The splatters were hitting her head steadily and she sighed, lifting a book over her head.

But before she could despair much longer, a particularly fine-looking car pulled up on the side of the road right in front of her. It was only a moment before a black umbrella emerged, followed closely by her blond commissioner. Ginny checked to make sure she was not gaping like an idiot and took a step towards him. He politely extended the umbrella to cover her.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she started. "The last tour was, of course, not on time and I usually don't have to stay past six-thirty."

Draco seemed neither interested in her story nor bothered by her tardiness. He opened the back door for her and she seated herself. A moment later he joined her in the back and nodded to the chauffeur.

Ginny might have felt excited about being treated like a queen, riding in a fine car and, just then, being asked if she'd like a drink, which she politely declined. However, he didn't seem to care at all about her other than for her skills—and not the feminine ones either. She didn't know if she was bothered by that or relived by it. She hadn't expected him to be interested in her and she didn't really want him to be, but, really, he could show _some_ amount of feeling, could he not?

The silence descended like a winged beast from mythology and she grasped for something to day. She didn't want to ask a banal, trite question just to pass the time, but the fact that no one was speaking at all was bothering her. Finally, the minutes ticking away, she turned to him and burst out with that she had been curious to know since he'd walked into her door.

"This is going to sound abrupt and perhaps rude as well, but I have to know. Why, out of all the other scholars, nearly all of them more famous and celebrated than I—why did you choose me?"

She did not receive an answer, though, for at that moment they arrived at her little flat and he was out the door, speaking quickly the chauffeur. The driver then opened her door and escorted her to it before returning to talk with Draco for a few moments more. Ginny glanced at them, took out her key and opened the door, leaving it slightly ajar for Draco, and then stepped into her little home.

He joined her a few minutes later when she had set up the manuscript on the table with pen and paper ready to write down what she read. He took his usual seat silently and Ginny, growing weary of speaking to someone who never bothered to answer, turned her eyes to the second sheet of parchment and began to write down what she saw.

(X)

Chapter One of the manuscript as divided by the transcriber of the text

Shades of Beginning (Title provided by Miss Virginia Weasley)

"We're going to build it, Helga, we're going to!"

A laughing female was crying speaking, dancing around a bit before grabbing her friends' hands and taking her for a whirl as well. Both looked to be about eighteen years old with long hair and expressive eyes. But there the similarities ended. The speaker was tall with a mane of brown hair that liked to tangle. She had brown eyes and a pleasant face with rosy cheeks. The other girl was a little bit shorter and her reddish-blonde hair fell halfway down her back. Her eyes were a gray-green and her face was delicate and very pretty.

"Ronnie," the other girl said with a little laugh, "you can't be serious!"

The girl called 'Ronnie' grinned and spun the Helga around once more before letting go.

"I am perfectly serious!" she said and it seemed that she was, though her eyes were twinkling mischievously. "We've hoped and we've dreamed, but now we can _plan._ Oh, come now—be more excited! In fact, I think Father likes it very much; he looked quite thoughtful when I mentioned it to him and then tried to pretend it hadn't been a completely _splendid_ idea. He wants to steal the credit, the old bat, but he should know better than to try and pull that on _me_," she added, a wide grin lighting up her face.

"On _us_," Helga added, smiling a little herself. "It was not only your idea, Ronnie, but all of ours. I suppose that is what comes from being taught magic by your stuck-up parents and left alone to plot with the same people year after year. They invited this, I suppose, for all of us have sharp minds and even sharper imaginations." She looked thoughtful then. "But sometimes I wonder if they meant for us to do something like this and are secretly rejoicing in triumph..."

"Ah, no matter whether they planned this or not, it hardly matters!" the brown haired girl said with a wave of her hand. "Father said he was going to bring it up at the Ministry and he should be back now. The others will surely have heard as well," she added.

Her eyes swept over the lawn, reaching the castle that stood in all its glory at the top of a large and flat hill. She nodded towards it and made a grab for Helga's hand.

"Come on, then! Don't you want to know what's going to happen?"

Laughing, Helga let her friend drag her along and, skirts flapping as they ran, they made their way up the hill and to Ronnie's home, castle of the Ravenclaw family for countless years.

(X)

When they finally reached the large wooden doors with their brass accents in the twisting form of a raven, they were both out of breath. Ronnie knocked once on the door and it opened nearly immediately to show the face of a woman in her fifties, tall and handsome despite her wrinkles. She was dressed in the height of fashion, looking as if she had just been to a social gathering. However, both girls knew that this was how Ronnie's mother usually dressed.

"Rowena! Your father has been shouting up and down the halls for you for the past hour. The others are here now as well and we're all waiting," she scolded. Her face turned to a smile when she looked at Helga, though. "Nice to see you again, darling. Your father is here as well. Now, we've just a few more things to talk about. Godric and Salazar went down the hall. I think they might have been heading for the fencing room," she added distractedly before blowing them a kiss and heading off to the study, the door closing with a heavy click behind her.

Helga and Rowena regarded each other for a moment with twin expressions of absolute horror. Then, as one woman, they turned and bolted down the hall towards the fencing room.

"I don't even want to think about what we're going to find," Helga muttered between breaths, not looking pleased in the slightest.

"Mother is so _stupid_ sometimes!" Rowena hissed. "You'd think they would have learned not to leave those two alone anywhere where there are weapons...but no! They're all simply too busy to care about us even though we're the sole reason that they're having this silly meeting anyway!"

The heave door to the fencing room was closed, muffling any sounds that might be coming from within. Rowena threw herself against it and both girls tumbled in. Helga paused to heave the door shut again, knowing there were likely going to be some raised voices in a few moments. Rowena looked ready to murder someone, especially since there was blood dripping from Godric and Salazar was favoring his right leg. Both were clothed in breeches and open-necked white shirts.

The clash of steel on steel had not stopped with their entry, though both took enough time to make quick glances in their direction, though not too long—neither wanted to be run through.

"_Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin_!" Rowena said in her loudest and most annoyed tone. "_Just what in the bloody hell do you think you're doing?_"

"We're obviously—ouch!—fighting," Godric answered. The 'ouch' had been from a moment of distraction wherein Salazar had been able to nick him with his blade for what looked like the second or third time.

"They'll never learn to blunt their swords," Rowena said through clenched teeth. Her face was red with anger but her eyes were watching them carefully, clearly concerned. They had never been truly hurt while battling, though when they had visited Helga's home's dungeon and found the maces...that had not been very good at all.

Helga, quite ticked off herself but in a quieter and perhaps more deadly manner than Rowena, took a deep breath and stepped between them just as they were about to attack. Both swords clattered to the floor immediately, one making a neat hole through her second-best bodice. Ah well, the price of stopping your friends from killing each other...

"Dammit Helga, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Salazar spat out, though he looked pretty concerned despite his words. It had been his sword that had gotten so close to her.

"Since reasoning has no affect on you," she said sternly, looking him straight in the eye, "I had to resort to other tactics. Why on earth do you like beating each other up all the time anyway? I simply can't see what good it does for men to prove themselves by loss of blood and other body parts."

Rowena tossed them both a towel from a bench on the side of the room. "This may not improve the lovely scent you have going on," she said, wrinkling her nose, "but at least it will clean up the blood."

"I'm hardly bleeding at all, Ronnie, don't be ridiculous," Godric remarked, and then removed the once towel from his chest. "Well, it's not serious at least," he amended.

"I believe I can claim victory that round," Salazar said with clear satisfaction, running the towel through his shaggy black hair.

"You?" Godric said incredulously, looking at his friend with a grin. "Don't be ridiculous. I think you lose automatically for ruining Helga's dress. I, however, have remained chivalric to the end." And he let out a courtly bow to the ladies, both of whom smiled reluctantly and rolled their eyes at his antics.

"As chivalric as a _mumble mumble..._"

Godric snapped his head back to Salazar. "Did you just say what I think you said?"

Salazar looked as seraphic as possible, which was hard to do with his sharp features. "Probably," he said offhand and then threw an amiable arm around Helga's shoulders. "The parents want to see us, do they? They've certainly taken the bait well; of course, it is a splendid idea," he added with a grin.

"You know, Ronnie's right," Helga told him, slipping out of his arm. "You smell completely awful. My dress not only has a nice hole in it, but it's now drenched with sweat to boot. As always, you two have made my day," she added, though she was smiling.

"You know you like it, love," he replied with a cheeky grin that she would have smacked away if she hadn't known he'd like her to do that.

"Hear, that, Zar?" Godric asked with a grin. "She's mad about us. And why not? Two handsome, strapping lads like us are used to such attention from females. Have to beat 'em off with a stick."

"Just like how Marianne had to curse your nose off before you stopped trying to ask her out?" Rowena asked innocently. "Oh, I'm sure she was only playing hard to get—just like Annette and Flora," she added with a grin, looking over at Helga who joined with her to laugh merrily at Godric's expense.

Before he could retort or try and deny the facts, the door opened and the butler stepped in, looking straight and very unamused.

"Your presence is requested in the study Sir Godric, Lord Salazar and Ladies Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw."

They all exchanged glances; none liked being addressed so formally—it was really quite silly. However, they put on straight faces, thanked the butler and were off to see their parents.

(X)

"Your hand hurts," Draco said, breaking the trance that had come over Ginny while she had been writing.

She had been going so quickly and with so much concentration that she had barely noticed how numb and how lifeless her hand was starting to feel. Her penmanship was getting steadily worse too. Flexing her fingers, she winced a little. She was reluctant to stop; she found herself absorbed in the story and wanting to stay up as long as it took to finish it. But she knew it was not practical at all.

"I'm sorry," she said, moving her fingers to keep them from cramping. "I should have noticed my writing had changed; it's nearly illegible."

Draco looked at her then, surprised, and then shook his head. "I didn't mean it to be rude," he told her, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, though something else as well. "I was going to offer to write for a little while. That is, if it's alright with you. If we come to a part that's harder to read you can say it out loud."

"Oh," Ginny said.

She wanted to say more, but instead she pushed the paper and pen over to him, grateful for a break and that they did not need to stop yet. She watched as he took up the pen and as his eyes went to the parchment, taking in the words with an emotion that seemed like wonder. She could identify with that. This was the single most important moment of her career. And yet nothing seemed to matter but the story.

She turned the page carefully for him and waited as he began to write.

**A/N: Thank you for reading. I look forward to any comments!**


	2. Segment Two

**The Founders' Tale**

**II**

By Mrs Grim

The next two pages were illegible. The paper must had been of worse quality—though it had still been pretty darn good to survive so long—for the amount of crumbling and the poor adherence of ink to the parchment made it look like an incredibly depressing prospect to copy.

"I apologize," Draco said in a calm and clear voice. "I do believe I've jinxed the business."

Ginny's eyes snapped to his face and it took her a moment to realize that he was making a joke. Of course, she hadn't really thought he was serious…it was just, well, she had never heard him try and make a joke before.

"I see I've shocked you for the second time this evening," Draco went on, seeing that she was dumbfounded at the moment. He did understand why she might find his attempt at humour out of place, but at least he was making an effort and treating her differently than how he had at school. She still seemed to see him as his teen-age self; he wondered if that would ever be forgotten.

"No, no," Ginny said quickly, coming back to her senses. She did not know exactly what to say, though, so she directed the conversation back to the problem at hand. "I, uh, was afraid this might happen…there is not much that can be done. We shall just have to continue and hope the rest will hold together."

She leaned forward and looked upon the new page which turned out to be as readable as the very first had been. She breathed a little sigh of relief and nodded to Draco, but he had already started copying even before her signal. There was something about the text that called to both of them, though neither could explain that mysterious pull.

(-)

Godric's face looked as if it might burst into flames at any moment. He gaped at Helga's father, not quite sure how to answer such a statement. Rowena looked just as shocked and a little fearful as well. Only Salazar seemed to have a grip on himself, though his hands were clenched into fists and his eyes held a dangerous glint.

"This is the first I have heard of such a thing, father," Helga told her father, her voice disturbingly unsteady. "I had hoped if you were going to make plans about my life, you would at least be considerate enough to inform me of said plans. And not to announce them in _public_! Mother, what have you to say about all this?" she asked, turning her eyes to that woman.

Helga's mother, the wispy-looking blonde, brought her eyes to meet those of her daughter. She was a quiet woman, firm, but one who was wise as well. In her eyes, Helga could see that this as indeed not a joke.

"Helga, I am very sorry. It was perhaps not kind of your father to tell you of this in the current setting," she admitted, glancing first at Helga's father and then at the other pairs of parents, "but it is done now and at least saves the trouble of rumours and of having you explain it again and again to your friends."

There was silence in which no one spoke. The seconds ticked away while Helga tried not to look at any one face. Rowena attempted to get her attention, to impart as much sympathy as she could through a glance, but could not catch her friend's eye. So, she turned her gaze to Godric and Salazar, pleading silently for something, _anything_.

"Your uncle will buy our home, of course, and give us a more than fair deal," Helga's father went on, his own face stony. "He will move in next week—"

"Next week?" Helga's calm had broken and she was scarlet with anger and disbelief. "Father you _know_ that he was the one who encouraged the uprisings! Why do you think only you have suffered losses? He's wanted the house and the land for years and now he's going to turn us out!"

Helga's mother made a quick gesture to silence her daughter, but the damage was done. Helga's father stood up from his chair and walked over to his daughter, grabbing her arm and yanking her up from her chair to face him. Godric, hot tempered as ever, made it halfway out of his own seat before Salazar pulled him back down.

"You forget your place," her father hissed, spit hitting her face at the force of his words. She blinked once and tried to look back at him, but felt her will melting. "If you think to lecture me about our affairs, you have been brought up very ill indeed. Perhaps it will do you good not to have everything at your fingertips, have people waiting on you hand and foot. You've gotten a bit spoiled I think; we'll have to remedy that."

Helga's mother murmured wordlessly, her eyes darting to the others in the room. The men's faces were blank for the most part and the women's held more emotion, but it was suppressed as much as possible; there would be no help from anyone there.

Rowena, seeing that her mother and father were not going to do a damn thing, figured that if Helga was in trouble she might as well follow along and take what would come to her as well.

"Helga's the least spoiled of all of us," she said sharply. "Anyway, we don't care if she doesn't have any money; she's our friend! We can figure out costs another way, can't we?" she asked.

Rowena's father stirred in his chair and, though he did not reprimand her, his tone was firm and his eyes were not pleased. "Rowena, do you understand how intense this undertaking is? You want to build and run a school for witches and wizards and this does not come without great costs. All of us have agreed to help you, but money, like it or not, _is_ an issue. We won't bankrupt ourselves for your dream."

"But cannot we ask others for help? Get funding from a few other families?" Rowena countered.

"Absolutely not!" It was Salazar's father that spoke this time. "Young lady, as concerned as you may be about the fate of your friend, we must keep the goals in mind. This school will not be a plaything for you, something to do to amuse yourselves. This will be a huge enterprise, one that will last long after you are gone. To ask for help financially now means that you will never have sole ownership and control over the school. To give out anything to someone else is to compromise your future and your place in history."

"Helga understands that, I am sure," that young woman's father said coldly, still looking at her and holding onto her arm much too tightly for comfort. "Without entering her amount of the sum to create the school, it would not be fair to have her involved in an administrative position. If we put nothing in, we don't get anything out," he said simply.

That statement rang in the air for a long moment while the others tried to think of something to counter it. Rowena, Godric and Salazar both knew that if it had been entirely their money and their choice that this conversation would never be taking place. However, parents, especially rich ones, had a way of keeping a child carefully under their thumbs for as long as possible.

"Then I am afraid that we must decide against the idea of a school," Salazar said, breaking the silence. His tone was light, as if he had simply commented on the weather. He said no more, his eyes surveying the room to see the reactions.

"Don't be ridiculous, my boy," his father remarked after a second of stunned silence. "This will make history! You'll be remembered forever. We'll get the rest of the funds from your cousins, the Malfoys. They've a good, strong line and will be a fine addition to the school. Lucian will make a fine fourth head."

"No," Salazar replied simply. "You two do agree with me, correct?" he asked, looking to his stunned friends.

Godric, who was beginning to follow his friend's line of thought, smiled slowly. "Yes, you're completely right. Wouldn't dream of doing it without Helga. Was practically her idea!"

Rowena nodded as well, though she did not seem to be catching onto his exact plan. However, her trust in her friends was explicit. "Of course we'd never do it without you, Helga. Silly of us to even think of that."

Salazar stood from his chair and took that moment to take Helga's other arm, pulling her gently away from her father who now was sufficiently distracted. He cast a glance around at the parents, all dressed to the hilt and each looking as if they had a lot to say, but were not going to do it with them in the room.

"Sorry for wasting your time," he said graciously and gave a nod to the room. He then exited, taking Helga with him. Godric and Rowena rose to follow, the former with a smile that seemed quite out of place compared to the outraged expressions of those in the room.

(-)

Only the sound of footsteps disturbed the silence of the hall in Ravenclaw Manor. Salazar had let go of Helga's arm, but it was clear he had not forgotten the incident with her father. Godric and Rowena came up behind them and Rowena nudged them into the direction of an older and more private part of the castle. They walked for several minutes until she spoke.

"No one ever goes here," she said as they came to a set of double doors. She pushed one open and led them into a large, spacious room that smelled of old age and dust. "This was part of the earliest mansion; it was the ballroom. Pretty nice, huh? A weird echo too. I always used to play around when I was little and now the servants think it's haunted in here," she added with a smile. It was a tentative smile; they were all aware of the tension that still hung in the air.

Helga, who had been trying not to look at any of them, finally raised her eyes up fearlessly. "You don't have to worry about me. I'm not a helpless girl even if I may look like one. You can't compromise everything we've dreamed of because of me. I won't let you," she said stubbornly.

"Helga, is that all you think of us?" Rowena asked, shaking her head a little and smiling tentatively. "Do you think that any of us in good conscience could go on without you? Don't me such a drama queen, darling," she added with a smile, though Helga's expression did not lighten.

"C'mon Helgie, we need you," Godric said with his wide, easy smile. Helga grimaced at the pet name; he knew she hated it. "Look, we had this all planned out, remember? You're part the brains, Rowena's the one who keeps us all friendly and in line, Salazar's the other part of the brains as well as the dark figure that stalks through the corridors at night and I'm the one who goofs off while the others are engaged in serious business. And if you think Lucian Malfoy can carry out your role, you're nuts; he's be more suited for the dungeon torture master than anything to do with rational thought. My deep apologies that he is related to you, Salazar," he added with a mock glance of sympathy.

Salazar's thin lips curved into a smile, but his eyes were as grave as ever. "Godric is, I hate to admit, absolutely right. Lucian Malfoy could never replace you," he told Helga. "No one could. Besides, we are not going to have to find a replacement. Everything is going to work out. In fact, I'd say they'll be on their way to see us to apologize any moment now," he added with a clearly satisfied smile.

Helga looked at a loss. She turned her eyes to him with disbelief, though there was a shimmer of hope visible. Her own lips were fixed in a smile, but it was a dry one. "I know you don't want to just dump me—if you did, you'd better bet I'd have something to say about it!—but you know I could never let you give it all up or, as my father would put it, put nothing in and get something out of it," she said, sounding exasperated. It was hard to want so much and yet to be torn, not able to find a middle ground.

"We could argue about this all day," Rowena said, coming over and putting a comforting hand on Helga's shoulder. "But we love you as much as you do us and it's three against one. Besides…I could see that you had a plan in that twisty mind of yours," she added, looking to Salazar.

Helga's eyes also turned to him; she looked both eager and a little miffed as well. It was not like her to be so unfocused and emotional about matters. She felt like she was letting herself down by not being able to find a way out.

"I do have a plan and I am sure that Helga would have thought of it as well if she had not been so shocked at the news," he said, trying to reassure her. "Our parents' motives are fairly transparent, are they not?"

"Bloody vultures, the lot of them," Godric put in with a wave of his hand. "Always looking for a chance to stick their noses into anything they can find. You think they're not going to give it up, then?"

Rowena was smiling, her eyes lighting up. "God, you're right, Godric! I ought to have seen it; I was too angry. I just about gave your father a piece of my mind, Helga," she added, looking grim. Godric looked ready to comment, but a look from Salazar stopped him. Helga's face did not change. "But, well, I see what Salazar means no. We're their investment in the future. Even if they're all haughty and stuck up, they won't deny that we've had one of the best ideas of the century—perhaps even in history. Magical schools! Think of it, oh think of it!"

"But the money—" Helga protested, feeing this was too good to be true. There had to be a glitch, something they had not foreseen.

"My dad's got enough hidden away to build half a school and pay the staff to boot," Godric said with a grin. "And when he's gone, it's all mine. That's the merit of being the only child, of course. Of course, here I am at nearly twenty and he's still saying 'you'll come into your inheritance in a year.' Bloody hell, he's been saying that since I was ten! He'd better pay up and he knows it. And Ravenclaw's got enough hidden away and I'll be damned if the Slytherins don't too."

"Father never tells me anything about financial matters," Rowena said, pulling a face. "He thinks it men's business and I suppose maybe it is. But at least I should be entitled to know what's going on in my family, right? But I shouldn't think the extra money means anything."

"No, they were just being tight-fisted bastards," Salazar said simply. "Seeing how we would react perhaps… I think that they may have planned it, at least some of them. They must know we'd never separate," he added, though he did not seem sure.

"I don't see how it could all have been an act," Helga said bitterly. "It's true about the money, of course; I could feel that right away. I never thought that money would matter so much! I've spent my life not caring and now, the only time I really need it, it deserts me and tramps on over to my uncle!"

Rowena pursed her lips, hesitated for a moment and then took a hold Helga's shoulder and shook it briskly. "Helga, it's over! I know you're upset and, well, I know you're taking this a thousand times better than I would. But we can work it out. If Salazar is right—and we have no reason to suspect that he is not—and if the school is a success, well, then you'll be rolling in galleons soon enough. Look, you can even pay us back someday if it means that much to you," she added with a smile.

Helga smiled reluctantly. "Perhaps I ought to accept Julian's offer before he learns I've got neither a castle nor a fortune to my name anymore," she said with a wry smile.

"That imbecile?" Godric countered incredulously. "Helgie, I thought you'd told him to go away at least twice already. Do you want me to pound him a few times?"

"He's not a complete imbecile," Helga said, though she didn't believe it. "He is polite, a _gentlemen_, he doesn't shout at the top of his lungs ("I don't shout," Godric shouted.) _and_ he simply adores me. Oh, and he's rich to boot. What's not to love, eh?"

"Ug, Helga, please," Rowena said, giggling while trying not to be ill. "You know you'd never be able to stand him! Besides, you need not sacrifice your body for our cause. Let me do it, Helga; I'll give myself!" She motioned dramatically and Helga had to laugh.

"He doesn't want _you_, Ronnie, and no wonder," Godric told her and then leapt back as she tried to give him a good shove. "Whoa, there…see? He doesn't want someone who's going to push him into the, geez, really big, not to mention hard columns. Dammit, that hurt!"

"Good," Rowena told him and, with a childish gesture, stuck out her tongue.

Salazar had been watching the events with infinite calm, though his eyes were twinkling with amusement. One might too often mistake him for being serious all the time if one did now know him well.

"Well, glad to see everything is back to normal," he said. "Rowena's being violent, Godric's being annoying and Helga and I are watching with mild disapproval and secretly waiting for the right time to jump in. Jolly good, then."

Helga's glance told him that she was not amused, though the slight lightening of her eyes sent a different message.

There were three raps on the door and then it opened, their parents pouring in.

"They didn't even bother to send a servant," Rowena said under her breath, sidling up to Helga.

"They don't look especially happy," Helga whispered back. She looked at her father who looked harshly back. She looked away.

Ten minutes later, they were on the road to their dreams.

(-)

Draco's hand was starting to cramp up, though he was being like a typical man, refusing the admit weakness. Ginny finally snatched the pen from his hand, much to his surprise. It might have been the only time that anyone had dared to take something from him. Ginny was not paying a great deal of attention to him, though, and didn't notice the look on his face.

"Look, if we're going any further, I'm taking over," she said, reaching for more paper. "Your last few words are completely illegible. If I were simply reading this from your handwriting, I'd think they were on the "toad to heir reams" whatever the hell that means," she added finally setting out the paper and readying herself to write.

"Ah, as much as I would like to know what will happen next, I fear that it is getting quite late," Draco said after a moment.

Ginny looked up at him finally and then to the clock on her wall. "Oh, good God," she mumbled, running a hand through her hair, not wanting to think what a mess she looked like. And then she wondered why it mattered. It didn't, of course.

Draco stood up, a little reluctantly, or perhaps it was just stiffness from sitting for so long. "I will bid you goodnight, then," he said simply and nodded to her.

Ginny nodded back, not knowing what was appropriate in this strange relationship. Then she figured to hell with it and smiled at him with the utmost politeness and with real gratitude. He was going to make her famous once the manuscript was translated and she preserved the originals. There was reason to love him, to even forget what he used to be. No—one could not forget easily, but one could look past it. For now. Draco Malfoy was still a complete mystery and Ginny didn't know if she ever wanted to crack that shell and see who he really was. And, besides, there was no reason to even think on such things.

He stopped, having opened the door, the soft fall of rain and the dark skies making a brooding background, and turned to face her. "You asked me a question before. Forgive me for not answering it earlier. I…was not sure what the answer was or if there even was one," he said slowly. His face was in the shadows and Ginny found herself wishing she could see it. "Why I came to you…I don't know, honestly I don't. But I think that when one has been a bigoted bastard all one's life, there comes a time—even in so terrible and rotten a heart—that a little good has to be done. Besides…Ron told me that you'd want to do it."

Thus, leaving her mouth halfway open in shock, he pulled off an estimable vanishing act.

**A/N: Please leave feedback Thanks so much to previous reviewers!**


	3. Segment Three

Chapter Two of the manuscript as divided by the transcriber of the text

Love, Loss and Friendship (Title provided by Miss Virginia Weasley)

The next day, Helga received a visitor, one who had called upon her several times previously. He was welcomed by her parents with much enthusiasm, something that did not surprise her. They had not thought much of him before, but now that their fortunes were not so good and his were, they were thinking quite differently. It was to be expected, really. Duplicitous, but expected.

Julian bowed to the Lord and Lady of the house and then requested an audience with the other Lady. There was no refusal possible.

As they sat in the parlor, Helga took a few moments to examine the young man across from her. He was older than her, in his early twenties, and he had a boyish, pleasant face with dark hair and a snub of a nose. His looks were good, though not exactly to her taste and his personality was dull at times, though eager to please.

She sometimes wondered why he had chosen her to bother with his words of love and marriage. Her family was of excellent descent and she was pretty in a blonde, delicate way which seemed to be gaining appreciation in the standards of beauty. Of course, her temperament was not so delicate and her mind sharp—sharper, she had no doubt, than the fellow who sat across from her, looking for all the world as if he'd like nothing better than to take hold of her hand.

She folded her hands primly in her lap.

"Helga," he said, hesi

(-)

A knock on the door made Ginny start nervously. She pushed the papers aside quickly, but carefully, and rose to open the door. Before she could get within ten feet, it burst open. Her mind, guilty from reading ahead, half-expected to see Draco, though she knew that was quite impossible. In fact, it opened to reveal Ron with Harry and Hermione lurking behind. She blinked once and was about to let out an exclamation of surprise, but Ron stopped her, sweeping her up in a hug.

"Oof, Ron," she managed to say, finding it hard to breathe. "It's great to see you again! It's been years," she added after he finally put her feet back on the ground. _And now I have good cause to wonder about what you've been doing…Working with Bill my—_

"Yes, I'm a terrible brother, Gin," Ron said with a grin. "But look, I've brought old friends," he added, gesturing to Harry and Hermione, who were both smiling broadly. "We all found ourselves back here in London at the same time—first time in years! So we thought we'd have a little reunion of sorts," he explained. He looked at her for a few more moments and then let out a laugh, pulling her into another hug. "Geez, it really is great to see you again, Gin! I got your letters, of course, but it's never the same thing. You've grown quite a bit. Got boyfriend, have you?" he asked, ruffling her hair with one hand.

"Of course she does," Hermione said with a fond smile. "You can see how lovely she looks! Well, maybe you can't, but I'm sure Harry can," she said with a grinning glance at the man beside her.

Harry looked at Ron, trying to figure out what his reaction would be. Then he laughed and shrugged. "Oh, 'Mione's right as always. Why argue?"

Ginny knew her cheeks were red from the attention, but she also knew that most of the praise was simply good cheer between old friends. She could have said the same about all of them. Really, they were a good-looking bunch together. Maybe not the flashy, supermodel type, but even Ron, who had been so gangly and awkward years before had grown into his limbs. He'd never rival Bill for looks, but he could stand on his own.

"Hermione, you're trying to fluster me and it's working," Ginny said, trying to hide her discomfort. She took a few steps and threw her arms around her friend, pulling her close. Hermione was shorter than she was, but she had her same intelligent air about her. Her hair was shorter, cropped close to her face and it really brought out her pretty eyes and curving, gentle lips. "It's wonderful to see you."

She stepped back and regarded Harry, hesitating for only a split-second before extending her arms to him as well. She would never look at him without remembering her silly crush; she wished for a time turner to take care of that whenever she saw him. Not that it had been wrong to like him…and she still admired him, even now. But she had not that innocent confidence in herself that she'd had before. To think that someone like the famous Harry Potter could like her? No, she'd not make that mistake again.

"Gin, it's good to see you," Harry said, giving her a squeeze. "Goodness, you're nearly as tall as me," he added, taking hold of her chin gently and looking out at her after she had stepped back.

Ginny looked back into his eyes and hid all the uneasiness that she was feeling. Harry was her friend and damned if she was going to act like an idiot and be afraid to be close to him. It was all jokes and fun, no matter what the past was. Harry had forgotten it—or acted as if he had—and she ought to as well.

"And you look much the same," she said with a smile. "You'd think that after all these years you'd have found some way to make your hair behave," she teased him.

Harry released her and pretended to look indignant, only succeeding in looking adorable since he kept smiling. "Well, Ron, as with your height, I believe she's gotten your rotten sense of humor as well," he said with a huff.

Ron winked at Ginny while Hermione laughed lightly.

"Please, sit down," Ginny said, still smiling. "I know we have so much to catch up on…" she said, glancing at her brother. No, she wasn't going to start off with 'such as how the hell you and Draco seem to be buds now and you sent him to _me_ with this old manuscript.' That would be, ah, a bit too forward.

"That we do," Ron agreed, clearly unaware as to anything being wrong. "I know things must have been hard here, after Mum's passing," he went on, his face showing signs of strain, "and I know I've not been here enough for you."

"Ron, you're acting like I'm a little girl who can't like on her own," she exclaimed with a smile, but she was troubled all the same. When would they learn? Any of them!

"Ron doesn't really mean that," Hermione said quickly. "If I thought he did, I'd box his ears. You've done quite well for yourself, Ginny, and it's just hard for Ron to admit that his little sister doesn't need him around anymore."

"Or that she never did," Harry added with a grin. Ron took a swipe at him, which he leaned back to avoid.

"I know you've been busy, Ron," Ginny assured him with a smile. "Working for the Securities branch of the Ministry isn't something that comes with a lot of vacation time. And I know that Harry and Hermione have had their share of life without free time as well."

Ron leaned back in his chair, clearly quite relaxed. "Yes, there have been some very interesting happenings since school," he said with a slow smile. "Half of them I can't tell you about of course—can't get anyone excited over things already taken care of—but suffice to say I've done my part," he said smugly, waggling his eyebrows at his sister.

"Meaning that I, working humbly in my little museum, slaving night and day to make the world a more historically aware place, am working in vain?" Ginny asked with a laugh. "I may not have been saving lives like Hermione or doing whatever Harry's been up to—"

"Research Department of Ministry—Spells," Harry interjected helpfully. "With a little professional Quidditch on the side."

"Well, I knew that, of course," Ginny said. "But—what was I saying? Oh yes—Even if my job may not move mountains, it is mine and I think it will finally pay off," she added with a slow smile. She had not planned to share with them the discovery, but it had just slipped out. That being the case, she looked over to her brother, waiting for him to make a remark about manuscripts and ask if Draco had taken his advice and come to her. Ron did not, however, oblige. He simply raised an eyebrow, looking interested, but skeptical.

"Really, Ginny?" Hermione asked, looking quite excited, all optimism. "Why that's wonderful! Are you going to share it with us or is it a surprise?"

Ginny hesitated for a moment and then wet her lips, making a decision quickly. "It's, er, a surprise. At least for now," she added with a smile to relieve the tension she was feeling. "I have a little more work to do before the first part is presentable. I promise to let you know before I publish, of course."

"I'll admit that you've got me in suspense," Harry said amiably. "I suppose we'll wait it out, though. And, though I mean no disrespect on your cozy abode, I was thinking that we ought to go out somewhere. Dinner perhaps, then maybe catch a movie later?" he suggested.

The others were quick to agree while Ginny wet her dry lips again and tried to think of a gracious way to bow out. Dinner, yes, but she already had a date for tonight. One that she wasn't quite ready to let anyone know about.

"Dinner sounds great," she said quickly. "But I've got plans later tonight. I promised myself that I'd get a bit of work done, you see. But maybe tomorrow night or another this week," she added, thinking that she could cancel with Draco if she gave advanced warning.

_Goodness, _she thought as they walked to the door, _whoever invented the little chant 'secrets secrets are no fun' was dead right. But as long as my secret does not come out until I want it to, perhaps it is a little fun…_

(-)

-tantly, inching a little closer to her. "I want to let you know that I don't think any less of you because of, uh, your current troubles."

He looked so sincere—that was what really stopped Helga from making a nasty comment, something that would have been all too easy to do. He honestly didn't see how stupid he was acting or how truly pigheaded he sounded! No, he was innocent of that emotion, guilty only of being a fool.

"Julian, I know that social status does not matter to you," she said simply. And it was true. If anything, he was a kind, open-hearted young man. But he wasn't for her and she knew it very well. She didn't think there was anyone for her.

Julian inched closer, his knees coming near hers, stretching out his hand a little, tentatively. He would never have been so ungentlemanlike as to grab her hand; the forlorn look in his eyes was almost enough to make her extend it, though. Almost. It would not do to give him false ideas of her feelings. Besides, she was one who prided herself in speaking her mind. So why was it so hard to let him down?

"Julian," she said slowly, keeping her hands firmly on her lap, "please understand me when I say that I am very glad to have you as a friend. You're more thoughtful and kind than anyone I know! But if you're asking for more than friendship, I-I'm sorry," she finished, finally sneaking a peek at his face and immediately wished she hadn't.

"It's someone else, then?" he said finally, his voice cracking with what sounded almost like anger, an emotion he rarely ever expressed.

"No, it's not," Helga said quickly, feeling like this was a situation out of one of the silly romance stories that Rowena wrote in her spare time. "Julian, I'm not ready to marry anyone and that is the truth."

Julian was silent for a moment, his face red, eyes at his knees. Then—"Your father said I had his blessing. And he told me you wanted to marry me."

Helga's throat closed and she couldn't breathe for a long moment. "He, he lied, Julian. But I see what he was trying to do now," she said, sounding stunned, unsure of what to do next. Her body was tingling with warning and to calm herself she stood up quickly from her chair and moved to the window, bunching the drapes in one hand. Julian joined her.

"Helga, I won't tell him that you said no," he said eagerly, trying to get her to look at his face. "I'll say we talked about it and we both decided that it had been a silly idea. Helga, I promise not to, to endanger you. I do care."

Helga finally turned to face him, her eyes searching his face, a slight frown visible. His perception was greater than she had given him credit for. Even if she'd never said it, he'd picked up on the hostility. He knew and he wanted to protect her. She almost kissed him then and there, but after a moment she turned a little sharply back to the window and swallowed.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you."

(-)

"So it was a mutual decision?"

"Yes, it was."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart. Why would I lie?"

The grass sighed in the light breeze.

"Hmmm…I don't know. But you would if it would suit you. I only mean that in the best of ways, of course."

"Sure, Ronnie."

"No, really! Alright, I believe you, Helga. He just seemed…smitten, that's all."

"Perhaps he was once," Helga said with a sigh, fingers trailing over the countertop. "But after we were face to face with it we simply decided that friendship was infinitely better. And it is," she added with a smile and a flash of seriousness in her eyes.

Rowena let out a sigh. "Helga I know what you mean. Friendship _is_ infinitely better nearly all of the time."

Helga had a feeling that she had more to say, but nothing came. Rowena was silent for a moment before her eyes took on that typical laughing look that Helga loved so much.

"Oooh, Helga, what shall we ever do? I know we promised ourselves never to become the kind of girls who giggled over guys. But it's just a fact of life when you grow up that you're _supposed_ to date and _supposed_ to fall in love and _supposed_ to have all these dramatic troubles," she said with a laugh. "It always sounds melodramatic and cliché coming from others. But when it happens to you, it seems so _real_."

Rowena looked so very serious, her eyes far away and searching, that Helga stopped to stare at her. "Ronnie," she said slowly, looking at her friend carefully. "Ronnie, is there something you're hiding from me?" she asked with a tentative smile. "I can't be the only one that's been tossed in and out of love. You know you can tell me anything."

Rowena came back to earth, her eyes focusing on Helga. Then she shook her head. "No, of course I'd never keep anything from you, Helga," she said and then smiled and gave her friend a wink. "Really, if I had troubles, I'd make sure I whined about them to everyone, you know me."

Helga was doubtful, but she did not speak her thoughts. Friendship was about trust and understanding. She was there if Rowena needed her, anytime and anyplace, but she would never force her friend to do anything unless she were in danger. And what danger could Ronnie be in? No, if it was merely a crush, then it was harmless.

"I'd better get home, Ronnie," she said with a small sigh. "My uncle is coming to dinner. We move out in three days, after all. No doubt he wants to size up the place and make sure we don't steal anything valuable," she said glumly.

Rowena was quiet for a moment and then she smiled tentatively. "You're going to do something, aren't you? Or say something?" She looked half-expectant and half-disapproving, torn between emotions. "Helga, you mustn't, you know. What has happened isn't fair in any way, but you can't make it worse."

Helga didn't answer.

(-)

The Hufflepuff household was all aflutter at four-thirty in the afternoon. Helga's mother was running about making sure that the servants had dusted, the meal was coming along nicely and the prized silver was in the case where it belonged. Her father was in his study, a steady stream of smoke billowing out from beneath his door. He hadn't moved since awakening that morning and retiring to that room. Sarah was doing something intricate to Helga's hair while the latter sighed and tried to put her thoughts somewhere not so troubling. However, it was nearly impossible to do. She knew too much. They all did.

When one _knows_ that one's own uncle incited the villagers and peasants of the town to rise up against arguably the kindest mistress and master in the country, to refuse to work and to bring unwanted attention to the Manor from the Ministry itself—paid them off? Scared them? Who knew—it is hard for one to let that go.

But just knowing wasn't enough. Proving treachery was the rub. And since that was not going to be done, the laws of politeness and the proper interactions between families came into play. Helga wasn't sure she could bear it.

Her door flew open, admitting her mother, looking regal but wide-eyed.

"Aren't you ready yet? He'll be here in just a moment. We have to…make a good impression. Helga, he's more powerful than we had known before, that's the truth. We're out of his way now, but we have to be careful. I want you to speak only when spoken to and to not fix him with any of your questionable glares. Your cousins Anthony and Rebecca are coming with him. Now, _please_, promise me that all will be well."

Realizing that her mother was close to tears, Helga swore inwardly that she would do her best. Outwardly she said, "Yes, mother, please don't fret so." And she rose, putting her arm around her mother and pulling her close.

They were still for a moment, their breathing and the pattering of the maid tidying the dresser top items were the only sounds. And then Helga's mother stepped back, smiled with only a touch of wobbliness and held out her arm to her daughter.

"You look lovely, dear. Shall we go down?"

And they did.

Helga was not sure at all what the evening would bring, but she walked towards it holding her head high and her heart steadfast. Pride was a virtue that none of them could afford to lose, even if they lost everything else.

(-)

Ginny's hand was slowing and she had already yawned three times. She didn't really _feel_ tired, or at last that's what she told herself. Dinner with her brother, Hermione and Harry had been infinitely relaxing. Perhaps she had laughed a little too much. She wasn't used to a great deal of excitement in her life, so she was justified in feeling a little overwhelmed.

She was about to continue writing when the pen was suddenly out of her grasp. Her reaction time slow, she whipped her head around to see that Draco had placed the pen back on the desk and was now reaching for his coat. She felt a bit guilty as she'd been late anyway and now it was barely nine-thirty and she was dropping off.

"We don't have to stop," she started and then stopped at the look he gave her.

Draco Malfoy had certainly never smiled at her like that before and, good God, never laughed either. He had been quiet when he'd come in, as eager as she had been to hear more of the story, and now he seemed to be in quite a jolly mood indeed. She blinked once, not sure what to say to that.

Draco finished his laugh, it was short anyway, and stood up from his chair. "With you about ready to nod off on the priceless manuscript? I think it's better that we continue tomorrow night."

Ginny smiled a little herself; she couldn't help it. "I'm sorry," she said with a little laugh of her own. "It's just that Harry, Ron and Hermione dropped by…"

She trailed off, staring straight at him. If she had expected some kind of response, some indication that he was going to elaborate on the parting blow he'd delivered last time, she was sadly mistaken.

"Did they? How nice for you," he said in a pleasant enough tone while heading for the door. She followed him.

"Look, are you going to tell me how you know Ron?" she asked as he was reaching for the doorknob. She was determined to hold her ground this time if he attempted to give her a mental kick and make a dash for it again.

He looked at her for a moment and then shrugged. "There's not much to tell. It's a small world. We ran into each other and he told me you were an expert on these things and, under the circumstances, I thought I ought to carry through with it."

Ginny shook her head slowly. She might have known she'd get nothing more. She was more than a little irritated at that time and she make a sound of irritation and reached to open the door for him. Her fingers brushed his as she moved his hand aside, gripped the door knob, turned and pushed.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," she said stiffly, trying not to look at him.

"Goodnight," he said politely, not sounding the least bit disturbed, and then turned and made his way with deliberate slowness to the waiting car.


End file.
